There are a lot of things I want to accomplish in my life. Some I believe I've already done, some I'm still working on, and some that are still somewhere out in the future. I want to be a good father to my children. Parker and Arabella deserve a father in their lives that won't fail them in any way. I know I'll probably disappoint them in ways eventually, but that doesn't mean I can't still be the best father I can be. I want to be the best servant and officer of my country that I can be. I've served in combat, but I'm doing something else now that holds a different meaning. Working with the agency and now with Temperance has shown me a lot and it's the work I want to continue to do until I can no longer do it. It's something bigger than myself, just like my children are something bigger than just myself. The work I do and the effort I put into both being an agent and a father will go on long after I'm gone.

I want to be a good son. Yes, some of that is already past, but that still doesn't change because I'm older. I want to be a good brother. I haven't known him for very long in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn't mean our relationship is any less than others.

There are plenty of other instances and examples I could list as well. I want to be a good friend, a good Catholic, a good anything else. Just because they're not on the top of the list doesn't mean they're not important. And like I tell both of my children, if you set your mind to it and believe you can do it, then there should be no reason why you can't. I tell them they can be whatever they want to be and with all of these things combined, I'm working to make sure that's still a reasonable dream for both of them.

Truth be told, I consider myself to be a pretty observant kind of guy. In my line of work I kind of have to rely on my ability to read people and see their intentions and thoughts without actually hearing them outloud. Mostly, because people - they lie. They can give you all you want to hear and it's entirely false, but sometimes you know how to read people and use your sixth sense to figure out what's really going on in their minds. Sweets is good at analyzing people, but I take it from a different angle. He backs his up with books and science. I base my ideas on my experiences with people as a whole.

There was a case we had a while back when we were trying to find the killer of a singer trying to hit it big by going into the lounge bars and catching some producer's eye. He was pretty good from the footage we saw and word of mouth from the local patrons, but he hadn't made it yet. A woman involved in the case, who was a suspect at one time, had been obsessed with the guy. She wanted someone to appreciate and listen to her. To validate her feelings and later when we were speaking with her, I guess I became a replacement. I sensed a few things, sure. She came by my personal office to hand over some gifts, but I tried to reason with her that she was stepping over a line.

Well. She stepped way over that line.

There were probably a dozen signs that something was going to go down, but I sure as hell didn't see them. She was obsessed and what do you do when that person doesn't respond correctly? If you believe someone else is standing in the way between you and your obsession? Yeah. I didn't catch onto those signs and I have the scar of a bullet wound in my shoulder to prove it.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

Look, I could sit here and go back and forth on this. Does therapy work. Maybe. Depends on the therapist and if you're forced to sit there in front of him while he tries to serve you some kind of weird English tea or he's a twenty-three year old kid who talks like he's still in high school. Gordon was a good therapist. Mostly. He was good in that kind of annoyingly good sort of way and he knew it. I didn't want to be in therapy. Ugh. Anything but sitting down and talking about my feelings about why I took out my gun and shot a couple rounds into a plastic clown on top of an ice cream truck. What? The damn thing wouldn't shut the hell up.

Yeah, yeah he got a few more things out of me than just me having a bad day and the clown happened to get in the way, but that's all falls under patient confidentiality. Except for when English had to give a report to my boss that I was compentent enough to go back on the job. And except when Gabriel reads my mind even though he says it's my own fault for "projecting" my thoughts.

Sweets has taken some weird interest in Temperance's and my working relationship. After we'd been "evaluated" and were determined we were still able to work well together after her fatiher's trial, he still wanted to study us. Why? We're just that interesting, that's why. He's not so bad, I guess. Pretty smart for a kid who graduated and got a job as a psychologist with the FBI before the ripe age of twenty-three.

So, does therapy work? Eh. I'll give it a 50/50 chance.

Are you serious? What kind of messes do I clean up? Oh, there are the ones I come across on the job. A body is discovered and I help to clean up that scene... only I usually like to let Bones and her people do the cleaning in those cases. That's her thing. Her and Hodgins, Cam.. they pretty much enjoy that sort of thing.

But that's not the kind of mess I'm talking about here. Oh no. The kind of mess I mean is the daily mess I see at home. Diapers. Bottles. Those little teething toys all over the house. Diapers. Parker's planes that Gabe keeps giving him more and more of because who in their right mind can't have enough toy planes, right?. Baby spit up. Diapers. I swear, Rebecca didn't tell me how many diapers she had to change with Parker because I never knew so much ... stuff could come out of one baby.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade Arabella for anything in the world, but I come home with the house a mess. I don't blame Gabe or anything like that. He gives me free child care so how can I complain? Before the baby came along, my house was pretty neat. Not a neat freak exactly, but I sure like to have things in their place.

So, yeah, that's just some of the messes I clean up on a regular basis. A daily basis.

I think this one is pretty easy. What would I want to participate in if I was able to be in the Olympics? Shooting. Not exactly sniper-style and I'll always prefer my own piece, but I'd kick ass at that event. My aim has and always will be sure and true and missing the mark would have ended my career in the Rangers way before I ever ended my service. It's not really the most exciting sport to watch, but it's what I'd excel at the most.

There's a reason I have the gun and Bones has the microscope. Or the reason that I'm supposed to be the only one with the gun.

There's no way I could compete on this sort of level, but I wouldn't be terrible at boxing either. I can throw a punch with the best of them. There's an underground Vegas fight club and a defeated fighter to prove that somewhere

Now, if we're going on what I'd want to participate in just for the sake wishing I would be good? Taekwondo or Judo might be nice. I'm a decent fighter, but I never took much martial art training after joining the service. The gymnsts always amazing me in all that they can do. The rings of the men's are the most physically demanding rotation and I sit usually shaking my head. Or watching those tiny girls throwing themselves all over that damn building. I don't get it. I'd never want to get up and perform in spandex, though, so gymnastics is definitel

There isn't any point in having a principle without considering it to be at least somewhat sacred. That's sort of the reason for having them in the first place, personally. You can have various rules you'd like to follow in life, but that doesn't mean you'll always consider them sacred. For me, there aren't many but the ones that I do have are sacred and there's not really anything to change my mind on that.

My family is sacred to me. I have a young son and even though I may not be married to his mother, he is the most important person in my life and by extension so is Rebecca. I've always cared for her and every so often we find ourselves back where we were in the years before Parker was born. But nevermind that. I asked Rebecca to marry me when we found out she was pregnant and she said no. Granted, it wasn't exactly done in the best way I could have - try the least romantic way possible - but she still said no. I loved her, I'll always love her, but her saying no was probably one of the best things we could have done. I think we could have made a life together, but we didn't need to get married. For me, marriage is sacred. In society it's anything but that, but for me personally it is. Whenever I marry, I plan for it to be a one-time thing. No looking back and no regrets.

I'm Catholic. And while I may not be the best Catholic on the face of the planet, religion and my faith is definitely something sacred to me as well. It's part of the reason why I get irritated with Bones whenever she uses her science and logic to try and go against what I believe. I don't believe it for the physical proof or scientific data. It's called faith for a reason.

My job and duty is, in some ways, sacred to me. I believe strongly in what I do, who I've been, and what I've done for my country. It's a huge part of who I am and anyone who knows me well enough can attest to that. I do my best to protect the citizens of this country and put those who threaten them behind bars. Individually, I may not make the biggest different in the world, but to the individual you help save you make all the difference in the world.

from: lieu_murphy
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booth is a petty hustler and wannabe
booth is both exciting and high energy

The last time I got drunk, and I mean really drunk, I was over at Sid's place and decompressing from a night of going to and from the office and the Jeffersonian as usual. There were things going on with Gabe at the time and it was before this nasty demon or whatever was knocked down a few feet. A pretty girl started talking to me about the city, photography and, well we hit it off pretty well. At least I thought so anyway.

Sid, the genius that he is, placed a bottle of tequila and limes and salf shaker in front of us. ...One thing led to another and after several shots at the bar things got taken across the street. We told each other that neither of us did this sort of thing often. Fast forward eight or so months and said pretty girls shows up on my doorstep looking a little larger than I remembered.

In no way do I ever regret what happened that night but I think from now on I'll be a little more careful of my tequlia intake because the last time I got drunk I got my daughter.

But I'll probably leave most of the above out when I tell Arabella how I met her mother.

Gaining someone's respect is complicated. Sometimes because of who a person is, they demand respect based on their past accomplishments or actions. Sometimes it's simply because of who they are in relation to you. Parents deserve respect from their children. Employers deserve respect from employees. In the military, my superior officers deserved respect simply because they were my superiors. I didn't have to like them and believe me, sometimes I sure as hell didn't. I didn't have to agree with them. Again, sometimes I didn't. But that doesn't change who they are. It's not always fair or right, but hey life isn't fair so that's just the way it is.

Bones and I disagree about plenty of things. Whether it's about religion, how to change a stinky baby's diaper, or how to solve a murder case, we disagree and usually do it in heated form. We argue. We're not the same person, so obviously we're going to have different views on a lot of things. Science versus psychology or logic versus instinct and gut. Hell, Sweets is fascinated by our disagreements so much that he's taken to studying our interactions and how we communicate with one another. But that doesn't take away from the fact that Temperance is one person I respect more so than so many others in my life. Not just because of who she is. Forensic anthropologist of the Jeffersonian and writer of however many murder novels. It's because of who she is as a person. Not just her accomplishments, even though they deserve a respect of their own.

You don't have to like someone to respect them. You can disagree with someone and still respect them. Respect is something you don't hand out freely and it's not permanent. It's like trust. Trust takes time and effort to build between two people. It can be broken. In the same way, respect can be broken, but can also be established again.

A week ago, 99.9% of my friends and some family thought I was dead. The woman who'd somehow become obsessed with me came to shoot Temperance in the club that night. Without one second's hesitation, I stepped in front of her and I'd do it again. It wouldn't matter if the bullet went straight to my head instead of just missing it. She's one of the people I'd give my life for without looking back.

The Bureau hid me away long enough until it was time for the funeral. Some guy I chased down years ago claimed to have said the only time I'd see him again would be at my funeral. Well, this was the chance to finally get him. Faking my death isn't something I took lightly. Hell no. I knew others would grieve my loss and that would be the last thing I'd want to put them through.

I had a list of people put together that I wanted informed of what was going on and that I was, in fact, not dead. On the top of the list were Gabe, Rebecca, and Bones. There were a few others, but not many. Gabe being my closest relative with me and also he would have the responsibility of raising my daughter. When Arabella was first given to me by her mother, Gabe was also the first choice in my mind for a godparent even if he might not always agree with that, thinking that his life is too dangerous for a child. Rebecca because I never wanted my son to find out I was shot much less her having to explain to him that I was dead. And Bones. Bones was supposed to know I wasn't dead. As one of my closest friends and partner for over three years, she deserved to know. Except she wasn't told.

Of course, she was angry with me instead of him for what happened. Makes sense right? I'm the dead one (supposedly) and I get the blame. Because I didn't tell her myself. Right. National security doesn't make any difference. And, okay, granted I've broken that a time or two with her in the past but I didn't think I'd have to this time. The punk, baby shrink we'd been seeing didn't tell her. And it's my fault. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really figure her out. Probably not.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second," Seeley yells over the sound of a screaming baby to Bones who's on the speaker phone.. They've been going over facts with the latest case and instead of doing this down at the Jeffersonian as usual, Seeley had to stay home because the babysitter was sick and couldn't watch the baby. Not yesterday, not today, and probably not tomorrow. He really needed to find a back-up babysitter. One who happened to have other plans for the afternoon and went by the name "little brother who's living in my house." Something like that.

"Heeey, princessl, Daddy is trying to send some really, really bad guy to jail but he needs to talk to Auntie Bones, okay?" He says it all in his sweetest Daddy voice, but Arabella's face is still beet red and he has to wince at the sound of her screaming.

"Booth!" he hears from the phone in the other room.

"Just a minute..." he says in a sing-song as he gathers up his daught and pauses a second to pick up the blanket, pink bunny, a diaper, the box of wipes by the crib, and a burp cloth. Maybe he'll come back for the mobile. Finally back in the living room, he pushes his folders to the side and grins down at the baby. "Theeere we go. Much better, right?"

Arabella doesn't stop screaming.

"Booth?"

"Oh, yeah I'm here, Bones. Did Zack determine the murder weapon yet?"

"What? I can't hear you."

Seeley raises his voice a little and tries to lean over towards the phone. "The murder weapon. Did Zack find out what was used?"

"No, not yet. He's narrowed it down to--"

Brennan is interrupted by the sound of a microwave going off in the kitchen. Oh right. The formula. "Just a second, Bones!"

Picking up his still screaming daughter, Seeley cradles the phone against his shoulder and face and hurries into the kitchen to grab the warmed milk and fumbles a little to test it out on his wrist. Perfect. Now.. if he could just get.. and the baby...

The phone falls to the floor.

"Damnit!" More screaming. "Oh, Daddy didn't mean that. Shh, it's okay." Carefully bending over, Seeley manages to pick up the phone and put it back to his ear. "Yeah, sorry, Bones. Dropped the phone. Look, has Hodgins at least found anything with his bugs yet?"

Arabella is finally settled in his arms and after a few silent attempts at convincing her that the bottle was a tasty treat by her father, she calms down and is content to drink down the formula. See? Tasty. Satisfied, Seeley heads back into the living room and sits down to gather up his files and listen in to Bones going on about the case again.

"There are some particulates we found in the victim's hair that could lead to a possible location of the murder. Booth, I think you should come down to the Jeffersionian and take a look at a few of the pieces of evidence."

"Yeah, I'll be in later this afternoon once Gabe gets back to watch the baby."

"Why don't you just bring her down to the lab? Angela would love to watch her, you know that."

Yes, he did know that and why hadn't he thought of that before now? He pauses a second and then looks down at the now content baby girl in his arms. "Alright, I can be down in an hour."

Hanging up the phone, he tosses it aside and laughs. "You're going to wear Daddy out, did you know that?"

Sometimes people assume that as a former soldier or now as an agent that we hold no regret in the actions and tasks we perform on the job. As a Ranger, it was my purpose to seek out the enemy and take him out. The objective of a sniper is to aim, fire, and make sure to have the better shot. And I did. I was a damn good shot.

As an agent, there are choices made in the heat of the moment that sometimes I wish I wouldn't have to make. Maybe some would say that the person in pursuit deserves the bullet he gets, but that's not my decision. It's the system's and even with the idea that our system is flawed, it's still the system we have. I am not God and I don't wish to be. It's not my job to play God with other people's lives. That's what makes me different from those who I do arrest and put behind bars.

I've never felt guilty for the lives I've taken in the usual form of guilt. In every death there's emotion. Depending on the person, it's either a postive or negative emotion. I don't take pleasure in pulling the trigger and watching someone losing their life because of it. Forty-nine people had their lives taken because of a decision I made in battle, in pursuit, or in my own defense.

Until Howard Epps.

Epps was as low as any person could possibly get. He was a monster and deserved whatever sentence was ordered upon him. He was going to get what was coming to him, but somehow he dodged those bullets every single time. Whether it was convincing his new attorney that he was innocent and avoiding his death row stint or escaping prison altogether. No, it wasn't a bullet that killed Howard Epps at all.

It was himself. He played God with the lives of others and lastly, himself. Only it wasn't that simple. He jumped off that balcony and I caught him. He was hanging by a single arm and I could see it in his eyes. He'd already played his games from inside his cell to have Temperance take a life. Now he was practically daring me to do the same thing, but with his own life.

And I did. Whether he fell on his own and I lost my grip, or I let him drop. Something went wrong and he fell. Forty-nine turned into fifty and now that's my own burden to carry. There was a split second that I wanted to drop him. I know that because I wouldn't be trying to figure this out if I hadn't thought it. I just will never know if I gave into that feeling and played God that night. Whatever the case, it's something I'll have to live with and there's no taking it back now.

It's past midnight when he gets the call that a body was found washed up on one of the beaches on the outside of town. Some kids messing around came up on the body and it was only a matter of time until Seeley got the call. In the past, this used to be a tag-team mission. Seeley and Temperance would both head out to the crime scene and check out the body and the surrounding area. Booth has plenty of FBI scientists on his team here in Los Angeles, but none of them by far have the skill that his Bones had when he was back in DC.

Arriving on the scene, Booth pulls out his flashlight and walks over to where a group of the LAPD are gathered around. It was suspected that the body in question was in fact the body of one of the missing girls in Seeley's case load, but they needed the confirmation of yes or no.

"How long ago was the body found?" He asks, flashing the light towards the agents standing over and taking pictures of the dead body.

"Half an hour ago, maybe an hour. One of the kids say they that it was some kind of animal, but once they got closer it was obvious the corpse was human."

Seeley nods a bit, not listening completely but enough to get the gist. "I want the remains and anything else you can possibly find bagged and taken back to to the lab. I have a friend back in DC I'd like to get an opinion on about the girl's identity, so I'll need full cooperation here, got it?" As he finishes, Seeley glances back to the officer he was talking to, raising a brow for effect that he's sure is able to be seen even in the dark.

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he says and at that turns to head over to the remains. Remains. It's a word Bones always used that he finds himself saying more and more now. Truth be told, he misses their duo checking out crime scenes, questioning witnesses together, and solving cases. She had a certain quality about her work that no one he's met since has and is likely to stay that way. Wincing at the smell and sight of the remains, Seeley only looks at the body briefly then starts searching around the scene for anything else that might be useful.

"Agent Booth, over here," one of the other agents call and Seeley uses his light to walk over. They both shine their lights down on a piece of jewelry half buried in the sand. Pulling a cloth from his pocket, Seeley pulls the necklace from the sand and hold it up, using the light to study it more.

"Amanda," he reads off the locket and sighs. It's not the name of his missing girl, but hopefully this is a step in the right direction to finding out the girl's identity. "Bag it, take it back to the lab. I'll send a shot over to my forensic anthropologist for verification."

1. I
2. only
3. talk
4. to
5. English
6. about
7. my
8. unresolved
9. issues.
10. Thanks.

//locked//

Out of all the people I've looked up to or admired from a soldier standpoint or as an agent, there are plenty who I'd be thrilled to meet. Past generals of the country or great leaders. Then there are the people I'd love to meet but wouldn't really want to go around admitting the fact out loud. Certain muscians, actors and actresses, authors, there's plenty I could go on and on about wanting to meet. They're all for different reasons. Some good, some kind of pointless in the end.

I guess I could forget all of those if I was able to meet one other person. She's dead so it's not likely I'd be able to in the first place, though who knows given what goes around here sometimes. I'd like to meet Gabe's mother. I have honestly no idea what I'd want to say to her if I did meet her, but that doesn't change the fact that I'd still like to see who she was. Of course, there's always the curiousity of what my father saw in her and did what he did, but that's not the point here.

I wouldn't say that I was sorry because even though what happened to her with my dad and after was terrible, I have no reason to say those words to her myself. Maybe she'd ask more questions than I would, I don't know, but it's still a curiousity that I'll never be able to get rid of probably.